Sunday, April 15, 2018

The question is not what you look at, but what you see.

Henry David Thoreau

I see gray. Again.

It could be—actually it is, let’s be honest—a tad discouraging that spring in all her warm and sunny splendour is so tardy this year.

But yesterday I saw pea sprouts in someone’s plot at the community garden when we stopped by to see if the water had been turned on yet. I’ve got peas, spinach, and radish seeds in the ground that are thankful it is; soon I’ll see the promise of sprouts in my own plot too.

And so today, again, I wake to gray but I remind myself that what Is before my physical eye is not the full story. Nothing can prevent the eventual return of sunshine and warm days; they will come in time.

Meanwhile, we will gather with our church family this morning and meet friends for lunch this afternoon.

And it is well.


I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things and the thin places where faith intersects.
  1. As long as the earth remains, seedtime and harvest … summer and winter . . . !

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